


Ducks of Doom

by ButterflyGhost



Series: Comedies, crossovers, and other weird anomalies. [4]
Category: due South
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Revenge of the Rubber Ducks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Fraser are stalked by an unflappable, unfathomable evil that knows no bounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ducks of Doom

It was a sign, really. If I'd known what was gonna happen I'd have gone back to bed. So, don't blame me, right? It's like, Vecchio had his cursed car, and I'm being stalked by the yellow rubber ducks of doom. The universe is out to get us, in wildly bizarre ways. Rubber duck turns up, it's gonna be a bad day.

Should have told my Mom that... and what's she doing sending me rubber ducks for anyway? There I am, signing for a package, yawning at the mail man, and thinking, 'hey, it looks like a big one, might be something good'... but when I open it, it's three rubber ducks, a big one, a medium sized one, and an itty bitty baby one. Thank God none of the guys were round to see that. So I phoned her up and asked her, “Mom, what's with the ducks?” She just laughed. “They were funny. They reminded me of when you were a little boy.” Everything reminds her of when I was a little boy. You'd think I was still in daipers, the way she carries on sometimes.

Still... they were cute. So I put them in the bathroom, mooched to the kitchen, made a nice pot of coffee, and mashed up my m&ms and drank a cup. And the curse of the mallards hadn't yet hit, so I managed to get to work on time. Everything seemed to be going okay, until Fraser turned up.

Actually, maybe it's not me who's cursed by the ducks of doom. Maybe it's me and Fraser together, as a joint thing... somewhere out there a wicked witch with a bizarre sense of humour noticed our one two punch, and cursed it with rubber duckies. Because once Fraser turned up, everything started going wrong. The lights went out, we had a lunch room incident, Frannie started panicking about voodoo again, Welsh's blood pressure went up for the tenth time this week, shaving yet more minutes off his life.

And then as we were leaving the station some weird big box turned up for supply, and Fraser grabbed the supply sergeant by the arm. “Don't open that box,” he said, “the pearly meters are wrong.” At least, I think that's what he said. Or maybe he just makes these words up.

And you know, it was a really big box... and it looked like it weighed wrong for the size of it. Really light.

“It's addressed to the two seven,” the mail man said, cross. “And it's been signed for.”

“Step back,” said Fraser grimly, and went up to the thing, put his ear next to the cardboard as though he was listening.

“What, what do you hear?”

“No ticking.”

“That's good, isn't it,” I say.

“It could be some other type of explosive.”

“Explosive!” The mail man stopped complaining under his breath, and high tailed it out of the building, like his ass was on fire. 

As the door slammed Fraser said, “I think we can assume it's not motion or noise sensitive, or it would have blown up by now,” and he has a point, you can't send motion sensitive bombs in the mail.

“I can't smell anything untoward either,” and then he licks it. Urgh... “Can't taste anything untoward...”

So, eventually he opens it... using that great big knife of his. Makes me think of Woody in Toy Story... “there's a snake in my boot!” Only it's not a snake, it's something designed to intimidate Crocodile Dundee. Yeah, who says size doesn't matter.

Anyway, so most everyone is standing at a distance, but I can't bring myself to back off like a coward, not when Fraser is gradually unzipping the tape that holds whatever it is in...

And he pulls it open, and all of a sudden we're just deluged in a sea of yellow plastic bloody ducks. Seriously. It's raining ducks in here, and all at once I'm in a star trek episode. But instead of it being cute little tribbles it's sarcastic rubber ducks, every single one of them laughing at me. And I'm telling you, they're not just sarcastic, they're sinister. They might look cute, but I'm on to them now. Not just plastic rubber ducks, any duck, anywhere. You ever wonder why they look so calm? It's because they have a plan. 

I'm warning you, watch out for ducks. If you cross a duck on the way to work, head back home. They're a sign... a sinister sign. A master mind is at work behind the scenes of human history, bending it to his evil will... and it's a duck.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a dS tag game. My prompt was 'signs.' It seemed to make people laugh, and I hope you enjoy it. But on a more serious note, do take it's message to heart. Watch out for the ducks. They're everywhere.


End file.
